


Going The Distance

by elderwitty, squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SGA Secret Santa Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderwitty/pseuds/elderwitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly bad experience on a planet, Rodney decides to seek John out for some help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going The Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarbucksSue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarbucksSue/gifts).



> Written for starbuckssue for her Secret Santa on LJ

Rodney half-collapses against the DHD after a ten-minute chase by the _very_ irate natives of PR5-6TX.  
  
"Dial the gate!" John calls, laying down a burst of suppressive fire.

Rodney pants, "Okay, just-"  
  
"Dammit, McKay! _Now_!"

Ford & Teyla take aim at a tree growing from a nearby cliff face. After some sustained firing, the tree's crown crashes to the path, along with a hail of rocks and soil that stop the approaching natives in their tracks.  
  
Rodney presses the last chevron. "Done!" The gate connects to Atlantis and suddenly John is pushing him towards and then into the Stargate. They rematerialize in Atlantis with Ford and Teyla right behind, and John calls for the control room to shut down the Gate.  
  
Rodney bends over with his hands on his thighs while trying to catch his breath. As the light behind him vanishes he hears Elizabeth call from the railing above, "Close call?"  
  
"Another one, yeah," John responds, then rests a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "You okay, buddy?"  
  
"Yeah," Rodney says only a little wheezily, though his heartbeat is still drumming harshly in his ears.  
  
"C'mon, guys," John says as he gives Rodney's shoulder a final pat. "The sooner we get checked out by Carson and give Elizabeth report, the sooner we can end this crappy day..."  
  
*******  


Rodney lets the rest of the team get examined ahead of him, saying he has to answer an email from Zelenka. He waves off his team, saying he'll join them for the report after he submits to Carson's bone rattling. It's not that he hadn't heard Carson's suggestions and warnings in the past. It's just that after this latest close call he's ready to heed the doctor's medical advice - he just doesn't want to do it in front of witnesses.  
  
After a quick (and lighter than normal) dinner in the mess, Rodney heads to his room, his mind full of things he needs to do. His conversation with Carson weighing on his mind, he detours to John's quarters. He hesitates, nearly about to bolt, when John opens the door. "McKay?"  
  
Rodney gives John a quizzical look. "How'd-"

"Atlantis," John says, petting the doorframe. "The ol' girl lets me know what's going on, especially around my quarters."  
  
"Wait," Rodney manages, tongue tied for a moment. "She _lets you know_?"  
  
"Well, yeah," John says, leaning against the doorway.  
  
"Well why haven't you told me this?" Rodney says, bolting past John into his room. He settles on the sofa John's acquired since his last visit. "And why isn't Atlantis talking to me, too? Carson gave me the gene treatment."  
  
"What can I say? She likes me best." John plops down next to Rodney and asks, "What's up? You wanna watch a movie or something?" He gestures to the laptop sitting on a heavy trunk that doubles as a coffee table.  
  
Rodney is nervous, and not used to relying on others. "Yes, well," he stammers, wiping his sweaty hands on his BDUs. "I suppose I should have come to you earlier. You're, you know," he says, gesturing at Sheppard, "and today I was all...er, unfit. And, well, it's been a while. Because we've been working nonstop since we got here, me especially. You know, I can't remember the last time I got a good eight hours of sleep. I mean, between the Wraith and the Genii and the planet with the kids and then losing you to the hippies that afternoon-"  
  
"Hey, that was like _six months_ to me-"  
  
"Yes, six months of living in a commune, being forced to meditate and reflect and fight off imaginary monsters-"  
  
"They weren't imaginary to _me_. I'm pretty sure I broke a damn rib that first time," John retorts.  
  
"Yeah, well, that type of environment was good - _mostly good_. And, you know, you got to rest and exercise and all kinds of things. And you're kind of a loner type, so that was probably good for _you_."  
  
Sheppard stares as Rodney takes a breath. "A loner, Rodney? Like the _Unabomber_?"  
  
"No, no, no," Rodney says, holding his hand out in reassurance. "Loner in a _good_ way."  
  
"Great. All I need is a shack and a manifesto." John says with a sardonic laugh.  
  
"And Carson... Well, medicine tends to be, you know - black magic and voodoo and stuff, but it has its place. And he's been yelling at me to get into better shape and everything." Rodney has to rub his palms on his pants again, because when did asking for help get so damn hard? "And you," Rodney says, gesturing at John's person again, "are in good shape. You probably get as little sleep as I do, but, you manage to make time for things. Things like running, which, based on my limited research and knowledge of the subject is mostly a solitary thing. And, you know, that obviously works well for you. Reading up on it, it seems like a lot of people stay in shape by running - even famous people. Did you know Canada has a famous runner? Well, had. Terry Fox. He was a long distance runner. Lost his leg to cancer. Was going to run all the way across Canada to bring attention to the disease. And you're kind of like Terry Fox-"

John's eyes bug out just a bit.  
  
"No, no, no, I mean with the running and being in shape and all. Not with the cancer. I mean - _your_ _hair_! Can you even imagine that?" he asks, shooting a look at John's head. "I mean, you? Bald? No, no, no... And besides - if that happened, I'd be there. I mean, with Carson. We'd find something in the Ancient database and, you know - cure it. So you wouldn't have to lose your hair." He trails off uncertainly in the face of John's expression.  
  
"McKay..." John leans in to make sure he has Rodney's complete attention. "What in the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"You. Training me. Running," Rodney blurts.  
  
John leans back and cocks his head. "You want me to teach you to run?"  
  
"Obviously I know _how_ to run. But... I guess, more like a buddy? Running buddy?" Rodney gives John a pleading look. "I even have some trainers-"  
  
"You need running shoes," John says, standing up. "Luckily, the SGC sent plenty of supplies, in case this turned out to be a one-way trip. I know there are a couple of crates of running shoes in storage." He looks back at Rodney, still sitting on the sofa. "Well, come on then."  
  
After finding a pair that fit Rodney well, along with a couple spares for them both, they walk back to John's quarters. John leans back against his door, "I'll come get you at 6am, so be ready."  
  
"AM? _In the morning_?"  
  
Lowering a smirk at the scientist, Sheppard does his best to fold his arms accusingly while holding the bulky shoeboxes. "I thought you were serious about this, Rodney."  
  
"Yes, okay," Rodney sighs. "Six o'clock in the bloody morning. Fine."  
  
"Good," John says, rebalancing the shoes as he triggers the door. "Sleep well, McKay."  
  
"Thanks," Rodney mumbles, before trudging back to his own quarters.  
  
*******  
  
Rodney's so worried he won't wake up on time that he gets hardly any sleep. When his watch beeps at 5:55, it sends him stumbling out of bed just as the door chimes. He opens it with a thought, calling, "Just a minute," as he closes the bathroom door.  
  
Rodney only gets a couple steps out of the bathroom before jerking to a shocked standstill. John is stretching next to Rodney's bed, his ass jutting out and causing Rodney's brain to lock up. "Hey, Rodney," John says from where he's bent at the waist, looking back at Rodney from between his legs.  
  
"How do..."Rodney starts, before realizing that his cock is rapidly responding to the sight. "That's just..." he tries again, turning to grab a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser. He pulls them on and sits on the bed to put on his socks and shoes, sneaking glances at John all the while.  
  
"Okay, hold up," John says when Rodney starts to stand up. "Let me explain something." He gives Rodney a five-minute lecture about the top holes on running shoes giving the runner more support while preventing blisters. At least, that's what Rodney _thinks_ John's saying; from the moment John kneels between Rodney's legs his mind starts running scenarios of other things Sheppard could do from that same position.  
  
"Okay, got it?" John asks, pulling Rodney out of a particularly enjoyable thought.  
  
"Hmm?" Rodney asks, covering up his daydreaming with, "Oh, yeah, yeah, got it." He motions John toward the door so he can adjust himself and hopefully make his erection a little less obvious in the sweats.  
  
"First, a brisk five-minute walk to loosen up. Then we'll stop and stretch. Stretching is the _most_ important part of your run," John says, leaning to the one side, exposing a hint of tanned, furry flesh at his waist.  
  
"Stretching. Got it," Rodney says, mouth parched, hoping his erection goes down before they start stretching - and _definitely_ before John spots it.  
  
*******  
  
The first few days, they take it easy, which Rodney appreciates. They gradually increase the distance, and at the end of three weeks Rodney's up to a full mile. Rodney grudgingly admits to John that he enjoys running. By the third month he's is turning up at John's door at 5:45am, ready to go. He's gotten into a routine, and his reward is stronger legs, increased muscle mass, even a slight improvement in his generally pessimistic outlook (though he'll never admit it).  
  
One unexpected side effect is a spike in Rodney's creativity. Sometimes he gets an idea on boosting power consumption (or what that fang-shaped tool from a half-flooded Ancient lab _actually_ does) in the middle of a three- or four-mile run. When it happens, he peels off to his labs to document the thoughts, catching up with John over lunch to boast about his epiphanies.  
  
Rodney runs with John every other day, like clockwork. It keeps him focused during the day and helps him sleep at night. They even maintain their schedule off-world, storing the gear in the jumper's storage compartment or an extra duffel when they're on foot.  
  
*******  


Rodney wakes as the first streaks of light on PTV-67R flood the tent. They, along with Lorne's team, are there to check it out as a possible alpha site. So far, the planet seems nearly ideal. Last night, Lorne compared the terrain around the campsite to the Utah desert, which quickly devolved into a discussion of the movie "127 Hours". After five minutes of gruesome details, Rodney decided to ignore them and concentrate on the calculations on his tablet.  
  
"Up at and 'em, Sheppard," Rodney says as he slips on his running shoes, leaning over to shake John's shoulder.  
  
"Rod _ney_ ," John whines (though he'll deny it if confronted). He glances at his watch and yawns. "It's 4:15am Atlantis time."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Cadman spotted some sort of natural trail just east of here. Let's go," he says, stepping outside and flipping the flap over the side of the tent to give John the full effect of the rising sun.

They keep their voices quiet as they walk briskly out of camp for their three-minute warm-up. Sheppard helps Rodney stretch out his back by pressing down along his spine as he bends. Then Rodney braces Sheppard while he stretches out his quads and hamstrings. Soon they're ready to go, and take off across the rocky path, Rodney watching the shadows climb down the cliff they're running alongside. As the land flattens out, he points to a group of horse/cow animals that seem more like steers than steeds. With some testing, they could become a good source of protein for Atlantis.  
  
After about three miles, John waves at a stump jutting into the pathway, signaling a good point to double back. Half a mile out of camp, they reach the cliff from before. The sound of a spooked herd above him makes Rodney look up. Suddenly there's a tumble of rocks and plant material, and a huge animal appears right behind them.  
  
Rodney only has time to think _Shit!_ before John's shoving him to the far side of the trail, making him twist his ankle. He's about to protest the manhandling when a massive cloud of dust rolls over him, accompanied by a roar that sounds like a jet engine.  
  
"John?" Rodney coughs into the sudden silence, waving his hands in an effort to clear away the dust. " _John_?" he calls again, before freezing in horror.  
  
He sees John - actually, _part_ of John; a hand and part John's left arm, the American flag patch showing through a layer of dirt. "Oh, shit!" Rodney turns towards their camp and yells, "Help!" He tries to hit his radio but it's gone, covered by tons of debris somewhere along the path.

Rodney digs with his bare hands, not caring about the sticks and barbs jabbing him. It takes an eternity to get John's face uncovered and Rodney checks for a pulse that's faint, but there. He doubles his efforts, uncovering enough of John to pull him out of the rubble. He takes note that John's right foot is bent at an awkward angle and checks his pulse again. It's still weak, and he's not breathing at all.  
  
"Shit, shit," Rodney chants. He calls towards the camp again before leaning over John. After making sure there's nothing blocking his airway, he covers John's mouth with his own and breathes out. He waits a moment, repeating when John doesn't start breathing on his own.  
  
After what feels like a dozen repetitions, John starts coughing. "Ro'ney," he says weakly, his eyes wide and worried. The first major crisis past, Rodney spots the trickle of blood from John's ear and feels shaken to the core. It's one thing to deal with a broken ankle, but a possible head injury terrifies him.  
  
"Okay, Sheppard," Rodney says, managing to sound calm. "We're about a quarter mile out. Do you think you can stand?"  
  
John tries to sit up, but needs Rodney to steady him. He touches his ear and examines the blood on his fingertips. " _That_ can' be goo'."  
  
Rodney nods absently, furiously working out a game plan. Decision made, he pulls John into a fireman's carry. Fortunately, judging by the lack of complaining, John's pelvis is just fine. He takes a deep breath and starts for the camp.

Rodney makes good time, getting there in eight minutes. The moment he spots someone, he yells, "Dial the gate!" He focuses on his breathing as he passes through camp, ignoring the burning in his leg muscles.  
  
"What in the-" Evan Lorne sputters as he makes out Rodney's passenger. "Ford! Get to the gate - double time!" Rodney sees Ford sprinting towards the DHD, glancing back as he dials. Ten seconds out, Rodney watches the gate splash into life and picks up his pace as Aiden sends their IDC and radios Atlantis.  
  
Momentum carries him through the gate, and he doesn't stop to answer questions as he sprints to the infirmary followed by footfalls and confused voices. He only stops when he reaches the infirmary, where Carson is standing by. A couple of nurses help lower John from Rodney's shoulder to the waiting gurney. Suddenly freed of his burden, Rodney topples backwards as John is wheeled into the trauma bay. He tries to catch his breath as a nurse comes to his aid.  
  
*******  
  
Rodney wakes up two hours later, exhausted and filthy. He sits up, every muscle in his core complaining. It takes a minute to maneuver his legs over the side of the bed, but he makes it to a standing position, wishing for shoes as the chill of the floor penetrates his thin socks. "Carson? _John_?" he calls as he wanders deeper into the infirmary.  
  
"Ro'ney?" Rodney releases the tension he's been holding since he woke up. The faint voice is unmistakably John's. And this time it's slurred from heavy drugs, not injury and shock.  
  
"Sheppard?" Rodney calls, ducking behind a curtain to find a cleaned-up John Sheppard grinning like a dope, no doubt due to the morphine coursing through his veins. "Jesus, Sheppard. You scared the hell out of me!"  
  
"Wha'd I do?" John wonders, playing with his IV site until Rodney takes his hand, intending to move it to the other side of the bed. John, with a goofy smile, clumsily laces their fingers together. "Wha the hell happn?" John asks, lifting his other hand to fiddle with the nasal cannula.  
  
"Yes, Rodney," Carson asks, suddenly appearing with John's chart, glancing at John's vitals on the Ancient monitors. "What exactly happened on the planet?"  
  
Rodney points at John, conveying a silent demand. Carson reports, "A couple of broken ribs, slight puncture of the right lung, and a busted ear drum."  
  
"That's why the blood in his ear? Not a head wound?"  
  
"Aye," Carson says. "No head wound."

 _That's_ a weight off of Rodney's shoulders.

Rodney retrieves John's wandering hand, now holding them both in his own. At Carson's impatient look, he reports, "We were on a run. On the way back, there was some sort of stampede slash hillside collapse. The Major here pushed me out of the way, and let half the cliff land on him. He wasn't even _breathing_ when I got him uncovered."  
  
"Was-" Carson starts.  
  
"Pulse, but no breathing. I had to give him mouth-to-mouth. Which -- _Thank you_ , Carson, for making us all learn proper CPR."  
  
"'s not tha kind of thing a guy wantsa forget," John says, one hand escaping Rodney's clutches and fisting in Rodney's grimy t-shirt. "First kiss an' all. An' belly. You're all skinny..." He pats Rodney's stomach. "No belly now... I liked your belly," he says sadly. "Hey, Carson. I know he's all health- healt- fit an' shit, but I miss his belly. Can Rodney have his belly back?"  
  
"I think Biro may've given him a wee bit too much morphine," Carson says, fiddling with John's monitor and hiding a grin as John rubs a horrified Rodney's belly like he's an intergalactic Buddha. "I'll give you two a moment."  
  
*******

Carson monitors John's vitals remotely. A couple of hours later, John's elevated heart rate prompts him to peek into the curtained area. He finds Rodney sleeping in a chair with his head resting on the bed, while John gently cards Rodney's hair through his fingers.  
  
"Pain level, Major?" Carson quietly asks.  
  
John starts and stifles a wince, hushing Rodney back to sleep. "Not too bad. Can I get something that's not as strong as last time?" He looks at Rodney and says, "I want to remember it when he wakes up."


End file.
